


splitting unicorn hairs

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: Dorian and Feyvar [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’re bringing in a unicorn.”</p><p>Feyvar hums as he looks through the scroll, then looks up. “Sorry, what?”</p><p>“A unicorn,” Dorian repeats. “I just saw one being brought into the stables. Thought you’d like to know, what with you getting on so well with the hoard of the things last time we came across them.”</p><p>“Ah,” Feyvar says, not quite in the tone Dorian expected. “I- thank you for telling me. I will go and see it when I have the time.”</p><p>Then he gives Dorian a vague smile, and looks back at the scroll like he’s searching for an excuse not to meet Dorian’s eyes.</p><p>At the time, Dorian doesn’t think much about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	splitting unicorn hairs

When he spots a unicorn being led into Skyhold, Dorian heads straight for Feyvar’s office. He knocks like Solas, two tight raps, and bites down on a smile when he hears the quiet sigh.

“Come in.”

Dorian does, and can’t help the grin when Feyvar does a double take. Then his face lights up, and Dorian is squashing blasted butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re definitely not Solas.”

“Your observation skills are as keen as ever, I see.” Dorian leans down, presses a kiss onto Feyvar’s lips. He doesn’t even check to see if they’re being watched before he does it. Dorian has been all about self-improvement, this past year.

The kiss turns deeper, as most of their kisses do, and it’s only after a messenger clears their throat at the doorway that Dorian remembers why he came here in the first place. 

The messenger delivers the paper scroll, darts a look at Dorian and then leaves. When the door closes, Dorian says, “They’re bringing in a unicorn.”

Feyvar hums as he looks through the scroll, then looks up. “Sorry, what?”

“A unicorn,” Dorian repeats. “I just saw one being brought into the stables. Thought you’d like to know, what with you getting on so well with the hoard of the things last time we came across them.”

“Ah,” Feyvar says, not quite in the tone Dorian expected. “I- thank you for telling me. I will go and see it when I have the time.”

Then he gives Dorian a vague smile, and looks back at the scroll like he’s searching for an excuse not to meet Dorian’s eyes.

At the time, Dorian doesn’t think much about it. Their Inquisitior is an odd being, to say the least.

 

-

 

The last time Feyvar stumbled across a hoard of unicorns, he was the only one able to approach them without getting trampled. In fact, he was the one that got doted on while the rest of the Inquisition got whinnied threateningly at.

But while the unicorns had nearly killed the rest of them, they absolutely _loved_ Feyvar. They nuzzled up against his hand when he held it out, they ate gingerly from his palm, they even allowed him to ride on their backs when he tired, all the while shooting everyone else heavy looks.

This unicorn is mostly the same. They have to search out an unqualified teenager to lead it to the stable and care for it, and things are fine until one day the unicorn rears up when the teenager attempts to touch it.

“But I did everything the same,” the youth argues when she’s confronted, and then takes her gold and leaves.

After that, they get Cole to handle the unicorn, whom it has taken a liking to much like it had taken a liking to Feyvar. A liking, Dorian learns, that it no longer has for their Inquisitor.

He finds this out one day when Varric is nearly getting stepped on by the unicorn while walking through the stables.

Varric says, “Whoa, girl, I’m friendly, I’m- okay, no, it’s fine, have Feyvar, you like Feyvar,” and then drags him in front of him.

Dorian expects the thing to go from whinnying to soft snorts, then nuzzle into the Inquisitor’s hand like before. He doesn’t expect the beast to rear up even higher than it had with Varric, thrashing its head back and forth.

“Or not,” Varric says, and grabs at Feyvar’s coat to pull him away as Feyvar glares at him.

“Thanks,” Feyvar says when they’re clear of the stables.

Varric shrugs. “Sorry, boss. It liked you last time.”

“Mm,” Feyvar says, suddenly finding a fascination with the growing grass, the shapes of the clouds, the far-off barn. He breaks out into a blush when he sees Dorian eyeing him, and then refuses to elaborate when Dorian asks him later. He does a very good job of distracting Dorian, too, so Dorian doesn’t remember about the unicorn until he sees Cole tending to it later.

Dorian approaches and then stops a safe distance away, enough that he can talk to Cole but not get whinnied at by the unicorn. “Cole? A moment, if you please?”

Cole looks up from where he’s been stroking the unicorn’s nose, whispering under his breath. He blinks, and then he’s at Dorian’s side in a second in a flash of something Dorian has only seen in dreams.

The unicorn snorts behind them, whips its silver tail.

“Dorian will be very quick,” Cole calls back to it, not looking away from Dorian. “Won’t you?”

“I hope,” Dorian says. “Cole, I was wondering- what is it that makes the unicorn take a shine to you?”

“I talk to her. No-one talks to her, nowadays. She’s not used to having a friend with two legs, she’s missed it so.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very well and good, Cole, I’m glad you and she are friends. But I was more asking about why the thing rejoiced at the sight of Feyvar last year and now she bays for his blood whenever he gets within six feet of her.”

Cole blinks some more. He frowns. “He repels her.”

“How so? Eating too many unions? I’ve told him to cut back.”

“They all repel her,” Cole says, and then he dons his voice, the one he uses when he’s gleaming someone else’s mind. Dorian’s come to wince when he hears Cole start to say something in this tone. “Sweat, heat, fumbling under clothing. In the shed, near the back, behind the hay so no one sees- no, in the fields, a blanket laid over the grass, but rocks still press into skin- or, wait, a bed, with candles dripping, always said it would be special, not like his first time, behind a bar, muffled moans-”

“Cole.”

“Dorian?”

“Are you saying-” the words don’t fit in Dorian’s mouth for a second. “No, I’m sorry, what _are_ you saying? What repels her, exactly? What’s different about Feyvar that wasn’t different when we ran into those unicorns a year ago?”

Cole tilts his head. His hat doesn’t move. It never does. “He hadn’t lain with you, back then.”

“Ah.” Dorian wets his lips. “So it’s- what, rolling around with your own gender?”

“With any gender.”

Dorian stares at him. “You mean. You mean, I’m sorry, I don’t get what you’re saying.”

The unicorn whinnies impatiently, and Cole glances back at it.

“I’ll be back in a moment, Dorian’s understanding now,” he calls, and the unicorn’s tail continues to swish.

It clicks in Dorians’ mind.

“Ah,” he says faintly.

 

-

 

Dorian leans on the doorframe, watches his amatus work until he looks up and notices him.

“Hello,” Feyvar says, breaking into a smile that Dorian has learned he only uses around him.

“Hello,” Dorian replies, walking inside the office. He props his hip on his desk. “I was wondering, were you ever going to seek out Cole’s unicorn?”

“Is it Cole’s now?”

“Seeming more and more like it. I could have sworn I saw him teaching her to sit, earlier.”

“I wish him the best of luck.”

“Mm. Well, I heard he won’t need it, him being a virgin and all. Unicorns go for that sort of thing, apparently.”

Feyvar twitches and then pretends he didn’t. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Dorian continues. “Then immediately after you take a tumble in someone’s bed, they go right to hating you.”

“Mm.” Feyvar leans even further over his paper, starts scribbling intently. He doesn’t meet Dorian’s eyes even when Dorian comes to sit next to him, but he does look in the area of his left cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m very busy right now, but after I finish this we could-”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was your first?”

Feyvar’s quill stops. He darts a look at Dorian, clears his throat, then sits up straight. “Excuse me?”

It’s thin, reedy. Dorian sighs. “Last year, the unicorns were practically fawning over you, falling over each other to get a pat. Now, they’re all but hissing at you when you walk past. Something has obviously changed, and I’m fairly certain it’s me.”

Feyvar’s fingers clench and unclench on the table. “Is this important to you?”

“No,” Dorian says instantly. He pauses. “Well- yes and no.”

Feyvar gives him a dry look, and Dorian backtracks.

“I don’t care if you slept with no-one or a thousand before me,” he says, trying to sound gentle. He thinks he mostly achieves it. “I just- I had assumed. And you were comfortable letting me assume.”

“I didn’t want to advertise my,” Feyvar stops, bites his lip absently in a way that never fails to draw Dorian’s eyes. “My inexperience,” he settles on finally. “I was happy letting you think whatever you liked.”

“And your speech about honesty you gave me about two weeks into our relationship?”

Feyvar’s expression turns guilty. “That was about how we felt about each other and where we wanted things to go. It wasn’t about my inadequacies.”

“Inadequacies,” Dorian repeats. He puts a forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. “When, exactly, have I made you think you would be inadequate?”

“Never, but-” Feyvar chews on his lip again, casts his eyes down. “You were obviously very- you knew your way around my body. At the beginning of our relationship, though I knew it was foolish, I feared you would not react well to knowing the full extent of my inexperience.”

“It was very foolish indeed.”

“I am aware.”

“Exceedingly foolish.”

“I know, Dorian.”

“So very, very-” Dorian leans in, brushes their noses together. “Foolish,” he says, breathing it across Feyvar’s mouth. “To think I’d give you up just because I’m your first.”

Feyvar meets his eyes. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t make you nervous.”

“It makes me extremely nervous,” Dorian admits. “I only dare think what might have happened if you told me before we slept together.”

“See, I said-”

“I said I’d be nervous, not that I’d kick you out. I only meant I probably would have babbled embarrassingly the entire time.”

Feyvar smiles. It tugs on the scar running through his upper lip, the one Dorian healed for him when they were still fighting Corepheus. “I like your babbles.”

“I know you do, you ridiculous man.” Dorian kisses him, first on the forehead and then on the lips. He keeps it chaste this time, pulling back after a few seconds. “I am honoured to be your first, amatus,” he says quietly, saying it into the scant space between their mouths.

“And only,” Feyvar adds, holding his chin up and saying it fiercely, with every conviction he uses when he inspires troops.

It’s Dorian’s turn to flush and look away. “I thought you didn’t say things you don’t mean.”

Feyvar catches his chin, turns his face so he’s meeting Dorian’s eyes again. “I told you. I don’t.”

Dorian’s chest tightens as he looks into his amatus’ eyes, and he has to pull in a tight breath and change the subject lest he starts doing something awful, like tearing up. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you manage to hold off on such a thing for so long? You’re not an unattractive man, you know.”

“I’ve been told as much,” Feyvar says, and then shifts in his chair, letting his hand trail distractedly up Dorian’s face into his hair. “It just- it never happened for me, and things kept piling up, and then suddenly I was the leader of a rag-tag bunch of misfits. And then you happened.”

“So no vows, then? I didn’t make you break any promises to any gods?”

“We have the same gods, Dorian.”

“Which is why I’d be even more scared of the possibility of them striking me down for tempting you.”

Feyvar laughs, shaking with it, his fingers rubbing along Dorian’s scalp. Dorian’s eyes drift shut on their own account, he tilts his head forwards.

Feyvar continues rubbing along Dorian’s hair, massaging his fingers into the base of his skull, running his fingers along his hairline. He skims his fingerpads over Dorian’s eyelids, brushes along the tips of his eyelashes, pushes a thumb against Dorian’s bottom lip.

Dorian sucks at it without a second thought, realizing that most likely wasn’t Feyvar’s intention when he opens his eyes to see Feyvar’s mouth fall open on a gasp, his eyes go half-lidded.

“Speaking of tempting you,” Dorian says, and Feyvar shuts him up rather thoroughly until they’re forced to pull apart when a messenger walks in on them and yelps loud enough to bring Josephine running, who yelps even louder when they throw a quill at her and tell her to close the door.

She does, apologizing profusely and dragging the messenger away, and Feyvar pulls Dorian behind the desk in case of further disturbances.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


End file.
